


The hair of the dog

by FhimeChan



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Crack, Drunk Will Graham, F/F, Hannigram - Freeform, Inspired by Yuri!!! on Ice, M/M, Marlana and Preller if you look closely, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: What if Will had refused to take the psychiatric evaluation with a doctor of Jack's choice? And what if he had to attend a boring evening with all the psychiatrists of Baltimore in order to pick one?High consumption of alcohol is advised, while Will has to deal with a room full of people trying to get into his head and a handsome Dr. Lecter.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started to write this story 8 months ago, because I really wanted to read the Hannigram version of the Yuri on Ice banquet night. I hope you’ll enjoy my efforts.  
> My sincere thanks to Dani (@ustenance on Twitter), who went through my draft multiple times and left spot-on comments. Terrible things were avoided.
> 
> The story is complete, I will update every Tuesday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jack is bossy as usual, but meets an unexpected resistance in Will.

“Oh, for God’s sake Will, just accept the damn psychiatric evaluation!” Jack snapped at the stubborn man sitting right in front of him.

“I have no intention of allowing  _ her  _ to poke into my mind!” Will answered with the same vehemence in his usual quiet volume.

It had been a difficult day, and Jack’s throat was sore from yelling. He had hoped to settle this thing easily, but Will was refusing to cooperate.

He observed the man, who was busy glaring at the figure sitting in the other chair. He had expected Will to easily accept his chosen psychiatrist, as he had agreed to everything so far, and his resistance was unexpected. Shouting had not done the trick either.

“Look Jack, I understand that you need that evaluation, but I don’t think that it would be sensible to do that with someone I’m not comfortable with.” It was evident from his tone and from the posture that Will was refraining from saying something worse. He had been like that since he had seen Bedelia sitting in his office. 

She chose that moment to intervene in the discussion.

“He is not wrong, Jack. Maybe you should revise your choice?” The woman’s suggestion sounded more like an order than a question. 

She was withstanding Will’s glare without any apparent uneasiness, but she was sitting straighter than usual, and Jack would not have believed it possible. She really disliked her would-be-patient.

He considered his possibilities. He could force Will to obey his decision, but Bedelia was there as an external consultant and was not bound to his authority. In the worst case she could even decide to declare Will unsuitable for field work, and that would be a catastrophe.

There was only another possible option.

“Then come with me this evening to the opening of the new department of the BSHCI. Every psychiatrist in the city will be there, you can pick. Heck, every psychiatrist in the state will attend, surely you can find someone?”

_ And if they spend the evening trying to pick apart your mind,  _ Jack thought, _ maybe next time you’ll be less difficult. _

Will blinked and finally diverted his eyes from Bedelia. His face twisted in a grimace as he searched for a way to refuse. However, Jack mused, this time there was really no possible excuse not to pick the offer, at least not without looking like a spoiled child in front of Doctor Du Maurier.

Having come to the same conclusion, Will begrudgingly muttered, “Fine. See you there.” 

Without another world he rose and walked out of the office, pointedly not looking at Bedelia.

Jack smiled smugly. The problem would be settled in few hours.


	2. Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Will just wants to pile up with his dogs, but has to take out his suit and go to a party instead.

As he headed home, Will was incredibly hungry. It had been a miracle that until that afternoon he had managed to avoid being invited to the party, despite nearly all of his colleagues and acquaintances attending. He had even resisted Alana’s puppy eyes, and damn, he liked her. 

But then, just some hours before the dreaded event, Jack had to go and pick  _ Bedelia Du Maurier  _ to poke around in his head. Will was definitely not happy to be evaluated, but doing his examination with her was not an option at all. Better not to have his mental stability inspected by the very person that he despised.

He had already started to plan his relaxing evening, and now Jack had trapped him into going to that stupid party. And he would have also to be sociable enough to choose a person for his evaluation. Oh, joy.

He could already see the hungry looks on the psychiatrists’ faces if Jack made a formal announcement. And Will had no doubts that his boss would do just that, to pressure him to chose. Not that it would make much difference, he knew from past experience that every person working in the psychiatric field was more than eager to take a look into the mind of the elusive Will Graham. He felt like a black spot on a white wall every time that he had to attend some event because of his job. Even if he was used to it and knew how to react, having everyone sizing him up was not his idea of fun.

And this time he would have to actually give attention to the attending people, in order not to end up with an incompetent fame-seeker. That  _ really _ sounded like a nice evening. Well, at least Alana would be there, and even if she was too loyal to her work ethic to examine a friend’s mind, she was good company.

Focusing on that last thought, Will started to get ready to the party.

☾

“Hello, Alana. You look lovely tonight.” It was not just politeness. Will was used to seeing the woman in stylish outfits, but in her black cocktail dress she was a vision. He was not the only one who thought so, having already seen three different men and a woman stealing glances at her and then looking away. 

“Thanks! And you’re looking great.”

At that, his smile faltered a little, and Will tried to recover quickly enough for her not to notice it. He hated suits. Deeply and passionately. But this was a formal party, and he would not have been admitted even in his nicest work clothes. So he had to fish his formal wear out of the wardrobe and to actually put it on. Another point for his this-is-all-Jack’s-fault list.

So far, the evening had gone exactly as he had expected. When he had entered the room a murmur had gone through the crowd and  _ everyone _ had greeted him as if he was a long lost friend. Psychiatrists. Claiming to understand the facets of the human mind but not realizing that pretending friendship was not enough to make him talk to them.

At least, not during a normal evening. This time, Will had a plan. Considering that his empathy had been what had put him into this situation, it would be just fair to exploit it to survive the event. 

He had taken a deep breath and slipped into the mindset of one of the killers he had caught, a European baron who had charmed everyone into believing all his public murders were convoluted pranks. Radiating confidence, he had plastered his best smile on his face and proceeded to greet the first person at hand. The man in the blue suit had been so shocked that he had dropped his flute of wine. Will’s smile had turned manic, and with a couple of well aimed sentences he had excused himself and gone to greet the following person. Who had promptly dropped her canape and stared at him open-mouthed.

With a shiver, Will returned to the present moment. After one hour of one-sided conversations with stunned members of the high society, talking with Alana was necessary to restore his faith in the world.

“I see that you’re more talkative than usual this evening… What brought this on all of a sudden?”

Oh, right. She was a psychiatrist after all. Well, he could do with the opportunity to complain.

“Jack’s fault. He wants me to find a psychiatrist for my evaluation.”

Alana’s lips twitched in sympathy. “I see… Did you have any luck?” There was a tinge of guilt in her tone; she knew that it was her refusal to accept Will as a patient that had put him in this situation. 

“Not so much… They seem to just freeze on the spot when I speak to them.”

Alana started to laugh, to Will’s dismay. “Well, you can’t blame them for being stunned when you suddenly turn on the charm!”

She was teasing him. Will made a face. Taking in his annoyance, she continued, softening her tone. “What about Doctor Lecter?”

Damn. It seemed that he could not just have a friendly conversation this evening.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him,” Will replied quickly.

“Maybe you could give him a chance… If I recall correctly, you were impressed by his work on emotional dysregulation in serial killers, weren’t you?” Alana reasoned, “And he doesn’t seem the type to be impressed by your looks.”

The teasing edge was back in her tone, but she was dangerously close to the truth and she was going to drag on that topic of conversation. Will had to sneak out as soon as possible, and there was just one other thing that he had not done so far.

Sighing, he said “I’ll think about it Alana, I promise.” Like hell he would. “Now please excuse me, I really need a drink.” As an afterthought, he added, “If tomorrow morning Jack asks you, tell him that Doctor Smith could do.” The man had not seemed so bad, he had not dropped anything and he had even murmured back an awed greeting. 

He could have told his decision to Jack himself since he was attending, but Will felt like he had had enough bad conversations for his evening. He desperately needed a drink.

Alana was displeased to see him go, but she knew him enough not to be surprised by his almost rude dismissal.

Will crossed the room in the direction of the bar, pondering her words in spite of himself.

It was true that he was impressed by Hannibal’s work, and that Will could not picture the man being intimidated by someone in his wildest dream. And that was actually the problem.

He had met Hannibal for the first time a couple of months before, when the man had just moved into his new house in Baltimore. Given his reputation, some days after his arrival he had been asked to consult with the FBI for a difficult case.

In that occasion, Hannibal and Will had been present in the same room with Jack and other agents that were working on a profile. It had been also the first time that Will had unofficially lent his imagination to solve a murder case, and his opinion had been diametrically opposite to Jack’s and to anyone else’s in the room. Because it was just his luck that his career had to start with a big argument. So, he was passionately defending his position against agents that were looking down on him, when Hannibal had spoken for the first time backing him up. The discussion had become a dialogue between him and Hannibal, the two of them reciprocally inspiring each other to give new insights on the killer’s mind. In the end, the other agents were completely speechless, Will and Hannibal’s directions had been meticulously followed and the criminal had been caught in less than three hours. That had been a really good day.

During the conversation, Will and Hannibal had stayed in their respective positions at the opposite corners of the room, but in the heat of the discussion Will had actually made eye contact and they had exchanged some glances and shared private smiles over the other agents’ confusion. Will had to admit that he had been enjoying himself, and that he had felt a connection with Hannibal. Something powerful, yet still understated, that would have required just a more private setting to bloom into a friendship and maybe more.

Needless to say, Will had fled the room as soon as possible. The man was too handsome, he was too charming, he had  _ way _ too much money and he probably would be fussy over his choice of clothes. He had no intention of changing himself to fit into Hannibal’s world. 

Over the following days, he had ignored the missed calls, the ten letters left on his desk for  _ Professor Will Graham _ , as well as Jack’s pointed looks. He had even changed his class schedule, informing only his students via email. He had just returned to his usual timetable at the beginning of the week, and had been satisfied but also disappointed when Hannibal had not appeared.

This evening Will had caught glimpses of the man, taking great care to stay far away to avoid meeting him. It had been more difficult than he would have anticipated, because for some reason Hannibal had seemed to keep getting nearer and nearer. Once Will had even had to resort to desperate measures, purposefully bumping into someone to make them drop their drink and then running away with the excuse of looking for a waiter. 

But even if it meant he was starting to get a reputation as a clumsy person, he had no intention of joining the educated group of people that were hanging over Hannibal as if he were a Hollywood celebrity. His resolve had only gotten stronger when he had seen Bedelia at the psychiatrist’s side, every inch beautiful as the ice queen she was. He would not talk to someone who had willingly decided to be associated with that woman.

Or so he kept repeating to himself.

Will was bored out of his mind, he was angry, he was jealous, he was annoyed because he could not stop thinking about Hannibal, and so he snatched a bottle of whiskey and a pint glass from the outraged bartender and started to pour the brown liquid himself.


	3. Bedelia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Bedelia has to deal with an unexpected situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated two chapters today, and I hope it's good news! :D  
> The catch is that next week I won't be able to access my account, so the fifth chapter will appear in two weeks.  
> Hopefully there's enough drunk Will in here to make up for the wait \\(^^)/

Bedelia’s high heels clicked on the floor, announcing her arrival to the guests. She lingered for a moment on the threshold, perfectly curled blonde locks framing her face. A soft buzz coming from the center of the room told her that Will was already there, claiming the eyes and the hushed whispers of the guests.

She was hardly surprised by the attention given to Will, but that did not mean that she enjoyed it. At least her presence silenced the gossiping people nearby, as they bowed their heads to greet her. As usual, they were intimidated by her perfect manners and impeccable style, and she was careful to never let their expectations down.

It had taken years to inspire such reverential behavior, and Bedelia now was enjoying the exercise of her privilege. It did not matter whatever other local celebrities were attending the party, she was always surrounded by awed murmurs and hesitant pleas for advice. Will’s sudden appearance on Baltimore’s social scene was none of her concern.

Sipping her champagne and exchanging small talk with her admirers, she noticed how Will was purposely ignoring her. It pleased her, because that meant she had some power over him. Still, Bedelia found in herself the sudden urge to annoy him. 

She headed in Hannibal’s direction, certain to elicit a reaction from Will. Usually at social events she waited for her patient to come to talk to her, but since they were close friends, at least in society’s eyes, the action would not be amiss. She was Hannibal’s psychiatrist, so she had first hand information about his relationship with Will, or at least his absence-of-relationship. Bedelia was too loyal to her professional ethics to breach confidentiality, but after she had spent two months hearing all about Hannibal’s attempts to contact WIll, she was not above exploiting this knowledge. 

She knew that Will longed to talk to Hannibal, in spite of his increasingly pathetic attempts to avoid the man. Bedelia had started to suspect it that afternoon, when Jack had mentioned her friendship with Hannibal and Will’s glare had turned incandescent. His stolen glances at Hannibal during the evening had confirmed her guess.

Well, time for payback. With a light and barely noticeable smirk, Bedelia walked to Hannibal and put a hand on his arm, watching Will out of the corner of her eye. The man almost leapt at them, and his knuckles went white on his glass.

Widening her smile, Bedelia politely greeted Hannibal.

☾

Later that evening, Bedelia had set aside his little revenge and was gracing the other guests with her presence, gracefully waiting for her acquaintances to greet her as usual. Hannibal has excused himself to go to talk to Mrs Komeda in the corner, and Bedelia was dispensing furniture advice to a newlywed couple when a cry made her turn around.

“Hey you! Let’s settle this!” Will Graham was marching through the room and pointing in her direction. She tried to slide away, but he shouted “Yes, I’m talking to you, Bedelia! Stop ignoring me!”

Other people had heard him, so it was no longer possible to do her escape. Bedelia sighed inwardly and, preparing herself for a fight, said “I beg your pardon?”

Stopping in front of her, Will declared, “I am the more intelligent person in the room, am I not?”

Bedelia just stared.

“See? I am. I challenge you!”

She blinked.  _ Could it be... _

“You are a psichi… psicarit… well you should know how people think!”

_...yes, definitely, he’s drunk _ , Bedelia realized, as Will continued, “But I am better. I deserve the best company. Let’s settle this with a game of deduction.”

She took a moment to take in the man waving his hands around in front of her.  _ He is drunk, but you would not know it if not for the stuttering before. I have to admit I’m impressed. _

Indifferent to her scrutiny, Will was continuing on his track, pointing and nearly shouting at the nearest man. “Look at him! He thinks cats are cute.”

Bedelia tried to be diplomatic. “Mr Graham, you are in no condition to stay here anymore. Please be wise and leave. I may call a cab for you.”

But it was too late.

A man in a green suit was taking matters into his own hands.  _ Brian Zeller _ , Bedelia thought with a grimace,  _ that fool. _

Approaching the man that Will had pointed at, Zeller said, “Well, that’s interesting! Do you? Love cats?” 

In place of a reply, the man sheepishly extracted a cat plush from his pocket, together with a cat-printed handkerchief and a pair of folding cat ears. Thankfully, everyone was too busy cheering and clapping at Will, who was bowing, to notice how Bedelia’s eyes widened. Regaining control over herself, she saw that the attention was starting to refocus on her, and that everyone was waiting for her answer. Seeing no other way out, Bedelia relented.

“Very well, I accept your challenge.” Scanning the room for a moment, she added, “The man with the purple t-shirt is a dancer. His occupation is immediately recognizable from his stance"

Will answered, “Too easy. He also loves to throw knives.”

And of course, to everyone’s delight, the man confirmed to Zeller that he was part of a circus. Bedelia raised an eyebrow, unwillingly impressed. With a quick glance around, she said, “The little girl in the corner can play the piano. She is tapping the harmonic minor scale on the table.”

The challenge continued in this way for a while between everyone’s cheers and claps, and with Price checking every deduction. Bedelia was starting to enjoy the little game, it was a refreshing novelty, now that the tone of the conversation was more subdued.

“The lady in the corner is a vet.” She said.

And Will, looking sideway at the room ”The kid in the right corner grows mice as a hobby.”

“The gentleman with the red bow tie is an acrobat.”

“Boring and obvious...tell me how they feel!”

Bedelia stopped briefly, then pointed to one of his acquaintances, a lady named Margot. “The lady in the white dress has feelings towards Doctor Bloom."

“Of course, everyone has a crush on her,” Will dismissed. “Her horse is called Obsidian,” he added after a second glance at her.

Bedelia paused. She had to change strategy, if she wanted to win. Looking Will in the eyes, she said, “You despise me.”

“Hardly a deduction, I hate every dog hater around!” He filled the words with as much disdain as he could.

Bedelia was taken aback. She took care in not showing it, and kept her inflection neutral. “Mr. Graham, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will pointed a finger at Bedelia’s face. “Liar! This morning at Quantico I saw you taking a bish…cuit away from a dog! Under his master’s back! And then you even went and talked to the owner! And...”

“It was a chocolate biscuit.” Bedelia allowed some ice to seep through her words.

Will dropped his arm and looked at her with eyes so round the white was showing. “You… Chocolate… Well he doesn’t matter, because,” he stage whispered, “I saw you  _ killing _ a dog.”

In her mind, Bedelia punched him in his twitching face. She raised her chin. “Did we change the game, Mr. Graham? Is it an ‘imagine game’ now? Because I won’t allow you to insult me again over some fictitious visions of yours.”

“You know the truth! One month ago! You were out of a house, a  _ big _ house,” he opened his arms to show the vast proportions, “and you got half of your arm inside the mouth of a poor Maremma sheepdog.” He clutched his hands at his chest. “The little girl who was with the dog started to cry, and then from the window I saw a vet ambulance coming.”

Bedelia blinked twice in rapid succession, as memories of that evening came to her mind. For once, she gave voice to her first though. “How could you be at a window?”

Will froze in the middle of a movement, and then he  _ blushed _ . It was the confirmation Bedelia needed.

“You are attending the dancing school.” said Bedelia, relishing in Will’s embarrassment. Not even Hannibal knew. She imagined how Will would glare at her if she passed Hannibal the information.

“Yes, well, no, well it was for a case, that’s not the point!” And then, triumphantly, he added “And you are admitting that you killed the dog!”

“I didn’t,” said Bedelia coldly. 

She was about to add something, when a man stepped between them and coughed politely. Will ignored him and kept glaring at Bedelia.

“Good evening… I am the owner of the dog”. Will turned in his direction, surprised. “One month ago my beloved pet, Nutty, swallowed a chicken bone. It got stuck in her throat…” The man paused, sniffing. Will paled more at every word. “She wouldn’t have made it without Bedelia… My daughter was alone and didn’t know what to do,” Will was looking like a truck had driven over him, “but fortunately Bedelia was there and saved her.” The man beamed at Bedelia. “We could never thank her enough.”

“It was no trouble, Mr Ericsson,” Bedelia said.

Will looked terrible, with wide eyes and tears in the corners of his eyes. He was babbling. “...so...you are actually a dog lover? So for all of this time I just… And you…” He looked on the verge of tears now. He gazed straight into Bedelia’s eyes. “I am soooooo sorry.”

Bedelia considered Will carefully. He had surprised her that evening, more than once, and it was a rare occurrence. She was curious about how he would act when sober. If the issue with the dog was solved, there was just another matter preventing Will from accepting her examination.

“Are you aware that my relationship with Hannibal is strictly professional?” Bedelia asked.

Will stopped crying. He actually stopped  _ breathing _ for a moment. Looking at her with incredulity, he exhaled and said quietly, “...No.” He did not look like he would recover his wits for a while, so she decided that it was her occasion to make her exit.

“My apologies, I will retire for the evening now,” she said, turning on her heels. 

Walking majestically towards the exit under the eyes of the awed crowd, she noticed that Alana was talking to Margot with the ease of childhood friends. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Will was still speechless in the middle of her admirers. She would be surprised if Jack did not call her tomorrow for the evaluation. Or maybe the day after tomorrow, considering the hangover. Smirking to herself, Bedelia called a taxi.

_ That was a game well played. _


	4. Chilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Chilton inadvertently throws the gauntlet of the challenge to Will.

When Chilton arrived, fashionably late as usual, most of the people were gathered in the center of the room. He was uncertain for a moment. Should he join the common crowd in their simple pastimes, or should he wait for his followers to gather around him?

He then noticed that in the center of the room there was the black mess of curls which belonged to Will Graham, and curiosity got the best of him. The man had had the nerve to practically snarl at him during their last meeting, but his mind was fascinating. Chilton had to admit that getting to know him would be worth the trouble, maybe even the rudeness.

While he walked in the crowd’s direction, he managed to hear a piece of the conversation.

“...attending the dancing school."

He blinked. The sudden image of a dancing Will Graham was too much to handle. There had to be a mistake. He decided to ask the first person at hand, which he vaguely remember to be named Bill. Or was he Matteo?

“Excuse me… What’s happening?”

The man was transfixed by the quarrel going on in front of him, and did not answer. Chilton cleared his throat. And then he did it again, narrowing his eyes.

Still no answer.

With a quick glance around to check that no one was watching, he resigned himself to commit the undignified gesture of gently shaking the man. Mark (or Steven?) seemed not so pleased by the interruption, but moved to look at him in the eyes. The man asked briskly, “What is it?”

It would not be appropriate to be rude, even in the presence of someone so inconsequential. Chilton only allowed himself two seconds of looking down at the man before answering, with his best outraged tone, “Is Mr Graham attending a dancing school?”

The man had the nerve to look annoyed, before replying curtly, “It seems so,” and returning to watch the scene. Chilton decided that he had not time to waste to correct such unacceptable behaviour, he was too busy trying to keep a straight face in light of the new revelation. He was still contemplating the new horizons opened in his mind when the man at his side quickly moved towards him, making him stumble. A protest was on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed that the reason for the commotion was that Bedelia needed the space to pass. It was just fair that the crowd made space to let the important guests, such as Bedelia or Chilton, reach their destination untroubled. And he could be magnanimous, since her exit was the occasion that he was waiting for.

Without further delay, Chilton marched to the vacant spot at the center of the crowd. Will was already stepping towards him, he noticed with pleasure. He said “Hello, Will.”

Will stopped abruptly and glared at Chilton. “You’re saying it wrong.” The people around them who were starting to move away had turned in their direction and were now smiling.

Well, maybe he had been too informal, but he could cover for it if he kept the conversation going. Will was trying to walk away, but Chilton blocked his way. He said “I just meant to ask you…”

Will stood still and breathed, then said. “No, you won’t poke at my brain. You aren’t pretentious enough. Well.” He appeared thoughtful. “There’s a sentence I’d not exc… ecc… expected to say. Like ‘too many dogs’.” He put a hand over his mouth in horror. “Does  _ he _ think I’ve got too many dogs?”

Chilton had to admit that he was confused. Fortunately, the circle of people was still smiling, even wider than before. Reassured, he decided to diffuse Will’s weird mood with a joke. “How can I not be pretentious, I’m Dr. Chilton, general administrator for Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.” It was a brilliant self-ironical line. He had tried it at the mirror so many times. 

Will paled. Probably reminding him his superior status had been a little bit untactful. A recovery was called for. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to drag you in.” He added a laugh for good measure.

That seemed to work, because Will squared his shoulders and took two steps closer. They were now at arm’s length. Will hissed “I’d see you try.”

Chilton blinked. He was appalled at the rudeness. He glanced around. Nobody else had heard, and he could put up with a lot more for a chance to show his skills. Still, he could not help but reply. “We’re in a room of psychiatrists,” his lips curved in amusement, “the odds aren’t exactly in your favour.”

Will leaned in his personal space, and whispered at his ear, “You’d be surprised. It’s my job to know who’s dung… dangerous.” He moved back and smiled, a crooked thing with too many teeth. “Not that you’d understand who in this room could ki…”

Will freezed and even stopped to breath. Chilton waited. He would not be the impolite one. Even if Will staged his conversation so that everybody hung onto every word, Chilton would not give him the satisfaction.

Will muttered something under his breath. He sounded a little bit like “But so could I.” Which did not make sense. Chilton moved closer to Will with a nonchalant half step. He heard “...he’d understand me, like my dogs. Not like I’d put down a dog because it’s…”

Will’s attention snapped back to Chilton when he put a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off, narrowed his eyes and said, “What do you want?”

_ About time _ . “I heard you dance.” Will stared at him in confusion. Chiton puffed up his chest in pride. He had surprised Will, the expert profiler.

“Yeah, so what?"

Not the most encouraging answer, but it allowed him to proceed with his plan.

“What a fortunate  coincidence. I am considered an expert  in many dancing styles.” Will was now silent, while someone in the crowd smothered a laugh. Chilton didn’t know how they could be so dumb to think it was a joke. “What’s your specialty?”

Will snapped, “Every type! It should be obiuv… obbo… It should be clear to everyone!”

“I am sure of it, but…"

Will interrupted. “I see you don’t believe that my empathy could do that!” There was venom in his voice. “Yet I recall that last time you…” 

He was interrupted by a guy in the crowd, saying “Hey, why don’t we dance?”

The man beside the speaker groaned, hiding his face between his hands “Shut up, Jimmy…”

Undeterred, Jimmy continued, “I am sure they have an amazing sound system in this place. Let’s just live up the party a little, eh.”

There was a murmur of agreement, which took Chilton aback. In spite of his incredible social skills, the crowd rarely supported him. He felt a warm sensation in his chest.

Will’s eyes were unfocused for a moment. He muttered, “He hunts, I lure.” He turned to Chilton and said, “I challenge you,  _ doctor _ .”

After a moment, Jimmy spoke again, “Well, what are we waiting for? Waiter!”

☾

When Will had beaten him in the foxtrot, Chilton had blamed the very skilled red-haired woman that had been his partner. When Will had triumphed in the waltz, he could say that the couples that had joined their dancing in the middle of the room had been in the way.

Now Chilton stared at Will in dismay. He had taken him  _ years  _ \- years! - to perfect his tap moves. Will had just jumped on a table and started to move in time with the beat. His empathy thing was fascinating, but at the moment was also incredibly depressing. Maybe Will’s secret was in the way in which he scanned the crowd looking for… what? Chilton was clueless.

He let out a resigned sigh. He felt self conscious in the middle of a room where everybody was ogling his opponent. He had better just slide away unnoticed, and try to come back another time, when he would not feel so beaten up and worthless. 

He turned his back to the people dancing and took a couple of steps towards the exit, just to be stopped by a hand on his arm. 

“Mr Chilton! I didn’t know that you were such a skilled dancer!”

It was the first time that Mrs Komeda addressed him. In every other occasion Chilton would have puffed his chest and bragged about his own abilities at length, but not after such a desolating triple defeat. 

He tried to smile and to move away from her. “I wouldn’t say so skilled…"

Mrs Komeda’s grip on his arm did not wavered. “Nonsense! I can distinguish talent and hard work when I see it! When did you start training?” 

Another black haired woman came up to them, together with the man, Price, who had started the dancing context. She smiled and addressed him with enthusiasm. “I haven’t seen such a smooth dip since my uncle Bernie broke his leg! Can you teach me sometimes?”

Price added, “Yes, and the twirls!” He lowered the tone of his voice. “I’d like to surprise my partner at Christmas, I’d pay you for lessons.”

Chilton opened his mouth in disbelief, but Mrs Komeda was faster. “It’s settled then. Chilton will attend my next dinner party, and we will have a little dancing session after. When are you available, Mr Chilton?”

He gaped. Never had he hoped to be invited at such exclusive event. And it had never happened that somebody complimented him about anything. He felt himself blushing to the tip of his ears, and a huge smile appeared in his face. “What about the first friday of next month, Mrs Komeda?”


	5. Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Hannibal does his best to keep it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient... Hannibal is finally here! I hope you enjoy :D

When Jack had asked for his professional opinion, Hannibal had agreed without a moment of hesitation. Working with the FBI could be very educational for a serial killer without any intention of being caught, and he also got the opportunity to see detailed images from the crime scenes. He was in the middle of a creative crisis at the moment, and maybe looking at the various shades of death would help. 

What he had not expected was for someone else to solve the case before he could even take a look at the files. Jack had a pleased look on his face as he explained, “I got Agent Graham to work on the case. He has a very active imagination.” 

Needless to say, Hannibal was intrigued. Inspiration strikes in the most unexpected ways after all. 

☾

Killing Cassie Boyle may have been an impulsive decision, but it had been strangely refreshing to adapt someone else’s design and to add his own personal touch to it. An exercise in style may sometimes be useful even for the more refined artists.

Attending Will’s lecture on the murder had been a reward on its own. Hannibal had slipped in the room unnoticed; he had not wanted to get Will’s attention… yet. He had just sat down when a picture of Cassie had appeared on the projector screen. It had been impossible not to smile. In the light of the day the girl had been beautiful, the white skin complemented perfectly by her black hair and the red of the dried rivulets of blood. It had been a job well done. 

“It is a masterpiece, isn’t it?”

Will Graham had started his lesson with these words. He had Hannibal’s undivided attention. 

“The killer who murdered her wanted us to know he wasn’t the Minnesota Shrike. He was better than that. He is an intelligent psychopath. He is a sadist. He had intimate knowledge of Garrett Jacob Hobbs’s murders, motives, patterns enough to recreate them and, arguably, elevate them to art.”

Hannibal had given himself a pat on the back for the best impulsive decision of his life. He would have to be more careful in the future, though. Better not to underestimate Will.

☾

Just a couple of weeks after the lecture Hannibal had received another call from Jack, who asked if he was available for a brainstorming session. Usually Hannibal would have declined such an invitation, preferring to work inside his study, but the possibility that Will was involved in the case was high and he accepted. 

When he entered the meeting room, he saw that Will was indeed there, and that he was arguing with more or less all the other FBI members. Amused, he sat for a while, just admiring how Will stood his ground against the random objections thrown at his theory. The velocity with which he was processing the information and coming back with the appropriate answers was breathtaking, and Hannibal was enthralled. 

After a while however Will seemed to become more and more annoyed, and Hannibal decided that it was time to intervene. He wanted to talk with Will afterwards, and he had a better chance of having a pleasant conversation if Will was in a good mood. 

Clearing his throat, he stood and started to back up Will’s theory. Looking at his surprised and grateful face, Hannibal let himself smile in return. 

It had been easier than he had anticipated.

☾

_ Will Graham will be the death of me. _

After the solved crime, Hannibal had tried to contact the man for weeks, but he had been faced with a clear and obstinate refusal. And noone on earth had the nerve to avoid Hannibal Lecter, a rich, handsome and charming man, when he decided that you were worth of his time.  _ Except for Will Graham, it seems.  _

After a while, though, Hannibal had had to give up. Will did not want to talk to him, and pestering him more would just be counterproductive for their future relationship. He had other plans to approach Will, of course… unfortunately, they mostly involved some degree of kidnapping, and it was not yet time for so straightforward an approach. He could be subtler, if he wanted to. Plenty of people could be subtle, so there was no reason why he could not. As soon as he figured out how.

In the meantime he had resolved not to think of Will for one evening, and to just enjoy the social gathering. Of course that would be the occasion Will would decide to show up. Well-dressed. Smiling. Polite. Completely charming. Hannibal had not known that his heart could change location and palpitate in his throat, he had always thought that he had tamed that particular organ. And yet.

Of course, none of this was showing on the outside. Hannibal was sticking to his plan to wait to approach Will, because a public refusal would be too much to handle. 

Nevertheless, Hannibal had found himself gravitating almost unconsciously towards Will, or at least towards the last position that Will had occupied, since he was doing a pretty good job of slipping away.

For this reason Hannibal was completely taken aback when Will not only approached Bedelia, but also took the spotlight with a public display of his abilities. Here it was his famous empathy, on display for all the psychiatric world to see. It was a terrifying ability, which seemed more like telepathy than anything with a scientific explanation.

While the absolutely fascinated crowd gathered around Bedelia, Hannibal lingered at the far corner of the room, resisting the temptation to be truly seen for the first time. In that moment, Will could out his night activities in a heartbeat. He was both relieved and disappointed when Bedelia decided to end the game. 

Then Chilton tried to get Will’s attention, but instead of snapping at him, Will started to dance. Perfectly. With other guests. Hannibal lost control of his expressions, alternate waves of jealousy and another stunned emotion he could not place contorting his lips. He absently noted that Chilton was actually a quite good dancer, while the greater part of his mind was noticing the grace in Will’s movement and fantasizing over what he could do with that flexibility. “Non era l’andar suo cosa mortale, ma d’angelica forma.” He could say that he had never truly understood the real meaning of Petrarch’s line since this moment.  _ Her way of moving was no mortal thing, but of angelic form. _ Indeed.

As soon as the collective shock subsided, the guests started to join the dance, and the party became wild. Will bowed to his last partner and kept dancing alone, to Hannibal’s delight. Even if he had started to glance around, maybe looking for an exit. Hannibal made his decision when Alana and Margot lingered in front of him, and he saw how they were laughing and holding hands. He could not stand to let Will go home without speaking to him. 

He headed towards Will, who had finally come down from the table and was now shaking his hips with no apparent style or rhythm.

Hannibal snuck up behind him without being noticed, and put a hand on his moving shoulder.

“Will…” he began and then hesitated, bracing himself for another refusal. He did not manage to finish the sentence, because Will turned abruptly, threw his arms around his neck and curled near to his chest.

Hannibal’s mind came to an abrupt stop, as his arms automatically went to Will’s waist and he buried his nose in his hair. He suspected Will had muttered something like “fish” or “gorgeous” or “I'm keeping you”, or all of them, but he was not sure. They stayed like that for a while, swaying on their feet, music forgotten. Hannibal let himself enjoy the closeness. He felt strangely comfortable. It was an odd sensation considering that he had never hugged Will before, but no more strange than other things that had happened that evening. Will, on his part, seemed to be cosy and content, even if Hannibal was not able to see his face. He was able, however, to smell whiskey.  _ He is drunk _ , Hannibal thought with desperate amusement.  _ He is drunk and can still read your thoughts and wrap everyone in the room around his finger. Myself included.  _

It was the change of music that broke the moment. Zeller, who had fancied himself DJ for the night, had decided that it was the right moment for a tango. Hannibal sighed inwardly, as Will raised his head to make eye contact. Could it still be considered eye contact if the gaze is unfocused because of the booze? Maybe it could, if the eyes are sparkling with excitement like Will’s were. They were close enough for Hannibal to see every shade of his irises and to notice how Will’s eyes widened just a bit when he glanced at Hannibal’s mouth, and then in a blink they became slightly less unfocused. 

Will took a breath, still clinging to his neck, then arched his eyebrows, asking, “ _ Doctor _ Lecter, would you dance with me?” He was teasing, the smirk gave him away. It did not take a profiler to understand that Hannibal in that moment would have agreed to anything Will would have asked. Still, the way in which Will had drawled his title had provoked things in his gut that were not entirely appropriate for the situation. He became suddenly aware that Will’s pants were very tight and that they were  _ close _ , especially when Will started to roll his hips again. It was positively vulgar, and tasteless, and arousing, and Hannibal did not have it in himself to stop him. Smirking, eyes still dazed, but with a challenge in them, Will asked, “If I win our dance off, Hannibal, will you take me out to dinner?”

How could he possibly refuse? Breaking the embrace just to step into the proper starting position for the tango, Hannibal answered, “Of course, dear Will.” 

He was not surprised at all when they started to dance in the same exact moment.

☾

The first dance lead to another, and another, and another again, until Hannibal lost all the measure of time. Will looked at him from under his lashes, playing coy, and then suddenly stepping nearer or farther following the beat of the tango. 

After a while, slower songs started to play and the lights became lower. Most of the guests had gone home, and just a few couples were still dancing around, absorbed in each other. It was in that moment, when a quieter song started, that Will stepped nearer and embraced Hannibal again. All the teasing was gone. 

Will raised his face to whisper gently in Hannibal’s ear, “I can see you now. You're like a dog I loved. There's darkness lurking beyond your eyes. They killed her, I can't give you up.” Will looked directly into Hannibal’s eyes, pinning him into place with the intensity of his gaze. “The elegance in your movements when you hold the knife. The heart still warm in your hands when you extract it from between the broken ribs. The black blood in the moonlight. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful”. He kept watching Hannibal a moment more, understanding and delight in his eyes. Then he pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s neck, resting his cheek on Hannibal’s shoulder with a sigh.

In any other occasion, Hannibal would have killed anyone raising even the slightest suspicion towards him, but this option had been wiped away by the man that he was gently holding in his arms. He was not sure how much Will would remember in the morning, and how things would go on in the future. In that moment, he threaded his fingers into Will’s hair, gently stroking the curls, and hugged tight the only precious person in the world who could understand him.

Will Graham could and would probably be the death of him, but he would die happy.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we skip to the morning after.

Colours formed behind closed eyelids, a memory of shapes, an impression of movement and laughter. A comfortable lull, then a jolt brought Will back in his own skin, gravity reclaiming his hold on his body. The soft, warm pillow on his cheek more insistent, as the half forgotten echo of a dream faded away, leaving Will waking up in his bed.

Splinters of dreams mixing with dazed memories in an inseparable whole. What had really happened the night before? Will had felt happy, and safe, and loved, while he had danced through the water, blind in the warm darkness enveloping him. 

He opened his eyes and blinked. Once, twice. He had probably drunk. A lot. He felt well and rested. Where was the headache? Where did the happiness come from?

He sat, the sheets stark in the unforgiving morning light. He closed his eyes, forcing half faded memories to come back. 

He had danced with Bedelia… No, with… Chilton? Will covered his face with his hands and grimaced. He had made a fool of himself. How was Bedelia involved? Oh! He relaxed a bit at the memory. Bedelia loved dogs. He rubbed his eyes. Something was missing.

He remembered clearly the emotion, the feeling of being comfortable in his skin and safe. So very safe. He huffed in frustration. He knew he had been in someone’s company, but in his memories there was a black mask over his partner. He recalled antlers, and red eyes burning into his skull in recognition. Who was…?

“Good morning, Will.”

☾

Hannibal had taken Will home the previous evening, the drunk man falling asleep on the seat of the Bentley during the drive home. It was easy for Hannibal to justify his actions as a rational act. He needed to keep an eye on Will, to be sure that he would not call the police and to gauge his reaction when he would wake up. 

But as he carried Will inside and tucked him under the sheets, he knew that he was just making excuses. Yes, waking up with Hannibal in his house would throw Will out of balance and help him getting under his skin. And if Will ended up being a threat, the place was isolated and he could easily kill him. Hannibal frowned at the thought. Distaste, unfulfilled potential, and broken expectations came with it. And under that, regret so deep Hannibal shield away from the possibility.

He fetched a glass of water from the tap and an aspirin from the pack on the kitchen table, and gave them to Will. The man did not wake up completely, pliant and trusting in Hannibal’s arms. Then Hannibal sat on a chair near to the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping man. Will’s black curls were a mess over the white pillow, sticking out at every possible angle. Hannibal smoothed them, tenderness and possessiveness in the unusual gesture.

The next day he could use Will’s inner darkness as leverage to take him away from the FBI until Hannibal was all that he could rely on. He could force himself through the cracks and have Will embrace his darkness, binding Will to himself. He needed to be close to Will to decide what to do.  

Even while he rationalized his behaviour, Hannibal knew that in truth he had taken Will home because he had wanted the evening not to end. He wanted to dance again with Will, he wanted to be seen for who he was. He wanted Will to smile at him, and he wanted to see the hidden beast which had revelled in Hannibal’s murders. He wanted. And he could not bear to go home alone. 

Will moved in his sleep, curling out on his side in fetal position, his face now hidden from Hannibal. He remained alone with his plans.

☾

“Good morning, Will”

Will’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop. Hannibal was in his kitchen, wearing the wrinkled suit from the previous evening. Will jolted out of the bed on instincts and took a couple of steps towards Hannibal before even realizing what he was doing. 

Then he stopped. There was a box of eggs lying on the table, in front of Hannibal, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression. Will glanced out of the window. There was just Hannibal’s Bentley there. 

Will moved his weight from one foot to the other, the foolishness of his previous spur of movement now hitting him. He looked at Hannibal again. There was a slight slump in his shoulders and a shadow under his eyes, but he had tracked each one of Will’s movements with attention. Will studied his expression. He seemed pensive, considering. Equally ready to bolt or to stay. 

Will did not know what to do with that. Too many possibilities, the loss of memory deeply uncomfortable. He blurted, “What happened yesterday?”

Hannibal swallowed, a visible movement of his throat. Then he answered.

“What happened yesterday is that I fell in love with you, Will.”

Will stumbled backwards as the words hit him. He looked Hannibal in the eyes. He wore the same expression of disbelief Will had on his face, as if he did not know what he would say until he himself heard it. He looked lost, his trousers covered in dog hair, standing alone in the middle of a stranger’s room, vulnerable in the raw hope reflected in his eyes. 

Will felt the sudden urge to reach out with his hand to smooth the wrinkle in his forehead, to hug him and hold him until the slight trembling of his hands subsided. It felt powerful, to be able to to break Doctor Hannibal Lecter with a word. 

In a exhale of breath, Will realized that he wanted more. He still did not remember what had happened, but under the awkwardness there was a sense of familiarity with Hannibal, a deep connection which he no longer wanted to deny. So he went with the pull.

Hannibal watched in trepidation as Will closed the distance between them and took his hand between his, holding it carefully until the trembling subsided. There was uncertainty in Will’s eyes, but his voice was firm when he said, “You should take me out for dinner, then.”

Hannibal smiled, and Will felt warmth spread through him as he returned the smile.

The shadows grew thicker around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To every single person who reached the end  
> To every reader who pushed the kudos button  
> To every kind soul who left a comment  
> Thank you :D


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